Morgan Michaels


El Greco's St Martin


His brilliant mare- (a legacy of the Moor?)
is of a brightness
rivaled only by his collar,
and, snorting with indignant righteousness,
spends the centuries glancing away:
long, the way to San Jose,
and, after all, it's just another beggar.

But her rider sees...hmm, what?
A Christos? Universal Fate?
A cold and hungry bloke?
feels his pain,
and, with a beau geste, if ever
there was one, tears
his costly cloak in twain

And shares it- (proof against the dawn and rising tide?
against the chill of falling night?) :
which, I know not- you decide.
Anyway, the oddly comely beggar will sleep tight
tonight, warmer, if not better fed
tossing from this side to the other,
begger's dreams tumbling his head

Like the clouds cartwheeling the sky
above the vanishing spires of Amiens.
'On, already',
prompts the mare, (whose name is Caroline) :
heedless of a deed done for the good of all-
who, what, where, when, how,
or by what prompting, not important, now.

Submitted: Saturday, November 09, 2013
Edited: Thursday, November 21, 2013

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (El Greco's St Martin by Morgan Michaels )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..
[Hata Bildir]